


By order of the King

by gwynplaine89



Series: JOKER [2]
Category: Joker (2019)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:53:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23108800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwynplaine89/pseuds/gwynplaine89
Summary: After having been locked up in Arkham, Arthur Fleck reencounters his past and at the same is faced with an uncertain future where there seems to be only a small light of hope at the end of the tunnel.
Relationships: Sophie Dumond & Arthur Fleck
Series: JOKER [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1660993
Comments: 1
Kudos: 20





	1. Prologue

This is the sequel to my work "Smile and put on a happy face" which you can find on my profile. 

If you haven't read it yet, I recommend you do so before you read this story.

Thanks you in advance for joining me and for all your love. 

Hope you enjoy!

Love,

Gwynplaine89


	2. The white room

What is time if not an illusion? There are minutes that are hours, hours that are days and days that are eternities. What difference is there between day and night when you have no window through which you can look at the sky? What's the use of the clock when all the hours resemble each other? Here, between the four white walls every day is the same as the one before, same as the one to come tomorrow.

Here, between the four white walls I know every corner, every crack, every shadow. I've counted the white bricks many times. They're 376 to be accurate. Of those 376, fifteen are cracked, although only two of them severely.

Here, between the four white walls I've spoken to all the voices and held conversations with all the ghosts. I have no more stories or jokes to tell. One is lonelier here than outside. I used to have the company of the sounds, the lights and the colors of the streets, I had the confidentiality of my notebook, I talked to my illusions and every now and then I even enjoyed the company of another human being.

Sometimes I think of her...Sophie. I remember her hands and her voice. I remember her words, her touches, I remember her lips and the love in her eyes. I wonder where she might be right now...what she might be doing...I wonder if she thinks of me every once in a while. Does she even remember me? Has she been able to forgive me for all that I've done?

I admit that upon arriving here I felt unbreakable. I even had my fun joking with the doctors, although I was the only one laughing because none of them got me. But as the weeks went by I felt that something inside me was giving in...and I began to die again. One dies slowly between these four walls. Not of hunger, for the stomach can be mastered. What kills is the endlessness. The endlessness is like a big black hole, it's the nothing. The nothing is something that starts by driving a man crazy, then it numbs him and finally it murders him silently without leaving a trace.

The green of my hair is almost gone. Means that I must be here for several weeks by now. It was November when everything happened. I guess we must be close to Christmas. Mmmm... Christmas... I never had a Christmas but I always enjoyed the lights in the trees and the decoration in the streets.

The sound of the door opening disrupts my thoughts.

\- Eat!- says a the rude voice of a man and I hear the door closing again.

I look at the food tray without the slightest desire or intention to eat. I turn to face the corner again and rest my forehead on the wall. I close my eyes but I don't try to sleep. I never sleep here. There is no possible rest in here. I feel like I haven't moved from this corner in days. It's not that I don't want to, it's just that I have nowhere to go. Four steps in each direction is a far as I can get. In one corner is a bed, small and cold and in the other is a toilet. Everything is white. The walls, the floor, the sheets...even my clothes are white.

When they locked me up here, they took my few belongings from me. They took my elegant red suite and my beautiful brown shoes. They took my cigarettes and my notebook, they took my blue handkerchief... All I have left from Sophie are the memories. I close my eyes and try to remember the moments I spent with her. I try to reproduce in my mind the date we had on that wonderful day. That fading image becomes real for a few seconds and it takes me far away from here. For a brief moment I feel like I'm free again. I smile.

Somebody opens the door once more. They come to pick up the food I left untouched. It must have gone cold by now.

\- He hasn't eaten, Doctor...- says the voice of the man. It's the same voice that brings me the food every day. But today that man comes with the doctor who looked after me on my first night here. I recognize her voice as well.

\- He hasn't eaten in a week...

The man comes closer to me , holding the plate and a spoon in his hand.

\- Open up!- he commands.

I don't want to. I'm not hungry. I've forgotten what it's like to be hungry. I'm free of that. I turn to the wall and hide my face in the corner. Leave me alone. I just want to be left alone. Go away.

\- Come on. If you eat, maybe we'll give you back that weird notebook of yours. Or perhaps that blue cloth that you desire so badly, huh?

I know they're lying. They won't give me any of that, I know. They're just teasing me. I say nothing. I don't even look up.

\- Leave him.- says the woman - He's gonna have to eat at some point.-

Now she addresses me.

\- It's time for your medication, Arthur. Are we gonna do this the easy way or the hard way?

On previous occasions I've resisted, I've refused to open my mouth, I've spit them the pills in the face and I've hidden them under my tongue to throw them away later. But all of that has only worsened my situation and I honestly have no more strength to put up a fight. Do what you want to me. I don't care anymore. Whatever I do, I lose.

So I simply accept the pills and swallow them. Their effect is immediate and it leaves me in a state of numbness and at the same time deprives me of the only consolation I have, which is sleep.

My only escape from this labyrinth is blocked, for suicide becomes impossible without a razor, a rope or at least a sharp edge. Sometimes I think about the eternity I have yet to count down inside this prison and I wonder how many more dawns and how many more nightfalls I must live through without even being able to watch them.

Between the hours that seem to be glued to one another, I've cried my despair and in the never ending nights of unrest that haunt me, I've cried out for Sophie's help. But no one has heard me, no one has come. Here, in the white hell even God himself has forgotten about me.


	3. Blood letters

I feel disorientated . I’m not sure if I dreamed or if I’ve just been thinking. I hear footsteps nearing my door. It must be morning already. If I slept, it was in this very corner and only for a few minutes. The door opens and I make out two silhouettes approaching me. One remains standing while the other kneels next to me and takes my wrist.

\- His pulse is too weak.- says the man - He needs to eat. -

\- Give him another 25 of Anafranil.

It’s Doctor Kane who’s in front of me then. Although her image is somewhat blurry, her voice is unmistakable. It’s colder than the floor I’m sitting on.

The assistant does as he’s told. His icy hands hold my arm, I feel the needle piercing my skin and the cold liquid making its way through my veins. I close my eyes. I’ve learnt not to put up a fight. When I open them again, the images become sharper and some clarity returns to my mind. 

\- Leave us.- says the doctor.

The assistant exits the room and she remains there, standing in front of me.

\- Let’s talk, Arthur.

As for her indifference, Doctor Kane reminds me of the social worker I was seeing when I was still free. However she was…how to say it… less persuasive in her methods. Let’s just say that Dr. Kane has more means to force a patient and she’s not afraid to make use of them. 

\- Why do you refuse to eat?

\- I’m not hungry…

\- We can’t let you starve to death.

\- I get it. It would be an inconvenient to the institution…

\- You understand perfectly. Let’s talk then. There must be something you want. We all want something.

\- But I already have everything I want.

\- How so? You have nothing. Not even your freedom.

\- Hahaha - I laugh.

People are so damn simple. They only perceive the things they can see. To want something makes a man a slave, a slave to hope. It forces him to carry on even when he shouldn’t. Kill the desire and you will kill deception, too. I desire nothing and therefore I have everything… I even have my freedom, because my body may be trapped between four walls, but my thoughts are beyond these iron bars, far beyond any horizon.

\- What’s so funny?

\- Hahaha, you wouldn’t get it...

The both of us remain silent for a while.

\- Arthur, are you hoping to die?

\- I don’t desire death …- I say shrugging - …But I’m not keen on living, either….-

\- How about a cigarette?

The doctor searches her pockets, takes out a package and offers me a smoke. I do my best to ignore the tempting offer. I surely miss smoking, but I can handle it. So I simply decline with a gesture. She puts away the package.

\- You know I can have you put in solitary, right?

Fort he first time since she came in, I look up and look her in the eyes. Her face smiles down to me but her eyes betray her. Her voice gives away the not so subtle menace.

\- I’ve lived in solitary my entire life… Don’t waste your time with me, doctor. The only thing I’ve ever wanted not you and not anyone can give me.

The woman turns around and leaves without a single word.

Tuesdays are visitation days. Every inmate in Arkham is allowed visits as long as his behavior has been adequate…whatever that means. I realize it must already be 3 p.m. when I hear footsteps. The inmates head to the main hall and the corridors get filled with voices. I can’t hear what they say but I can certainly perceive the excitement in the atmosphere. The only good day of the week for an inmate. I get up and stand behind the door of my cell. There’s a tiny window through which I can see a part of the main hall. Tuesday afternoons are what mark my notion of time. This moment is my only guide to sail through the immense ocean of time. Another week has gone by.

I see the doctors standing next to the inmates. Both groups are dressed in white, but it’s not hard to tell them apart. It’s the way they walk that gives them away. No doctor walks with a bowed head and no inmate walks in a hurry. I remember the days when I worked at the children’s hospital. I used to wear one of those white robes on top of my clown suit. “Doctor of laughter”, that was me for a few days. Some of the inmates are handcuffed but most of them have their hands free. If I had someone to visit me, I’d be among the first group, for I’ve been labeled as “highly dangerous” ever since I arrived here.

Suddenly the doors open and the visitors start to flow in. Those strange men and women that seem to come from another world. Their colored clothes inject some life into this white cemetery, making it tolerable for a few hours. It’s this moment when my heartbeat inevitably speeds up. For a few minutes I become a prisoner of that what I’m so desperately trying to run from…hope. The illusion of someone coming to see me is stronger than reason itself. I know very well that I have nobody. I know that nobody will come. And still I can’t stop searching for her face amongst the people that come and go. The doors close and the inmates head towards the neighboring rooms along with their families. Only a few doctors remain in the main hall, which is as far as my eyes can see.

I turn my back to the door and slide down to the floor. My heart resumes its apathetic rhythm and my sight gets lost among the white bricks again. I close my eyes.

- _Fleck…Arthur Fleck -_

I open my eyes. Did someone say my name?

\- _Please_ … -

I know that voice. I jump to my feet and look through the window. It can’t be. It’s her!! It’s Sophie!! Sophie, you came to see me!! You didn’t forget me!! It’s Sophie with her brown coat and a strip around her hair. Sophie who holds a bag in one hand and my heart in the other.

One of the doctors walks up to her. I can’t hear what he says, but I can hear her.

_\- Please, let me see him._

_\- There’s no way, madam. Please, try to understand. He’s a dangerous criminal._

No, no, please!! Let me see her!! I wouldn’t hurt Sophie. I never would!! Not her. Please!!

I see her arguing with the doctor but he just shakes his head. Another man in a uniform walks over and takes Sophie’s arm.

_\- I’m sorry, miss, but you must leave._

\- NOOO!!- I yell, punching the door - SOPHIE!! SOPHIEEEEEE!!!!-

She can’t hear me. The walls of my room don’t allow it. The officer guides Sophie to the exit door and she vanishes from my sight.

\- SOPHIEEEE!!!

It’s useless. I drop myself on the floor and wait…I wait for hours.

The door opens. It’s the assistant who came earlier this morning, now bringing me supper. He puts the tray down on the bed and heads out again.

\- There’s something I want…tell Dr. Kane.-

The young lad seems surprised.

\- Alright.

I sit down on the bed and inspect the food. It looks disgusting. I don’t have the least desire of eating. Minutes later the door opens again.

\- They said you wanted to see me, Arthur. What is it?- the doctor asks without coming closer.

\- There’s something…something I want…

\- And what is it?

\- First I need to know that you’ll give it to me.

\- That’s up to you… will you eat?

\- I will if you hold your end of the deal.

\- I’m listening.

\- A woman came to see me today. They didn’t let her in. I have the right to a weekly visit, just like any other inmate.

\- I can’t give you that. I can’t jeopardize the safety of any person who would want to see you.

\- Then there’s no deal.

\- Very well.

The doctor walks towards the door.

\- Wait…

She stops and turns around.

\- I want my notebook. That. My notebook. 

She looks at me with some distrust. She seems to be evaluating the chances.

\- Finish your meal and I’ll see that you get it.

She stares at me. She knows that if she leaves I’ll just flush the soup down the toilet. So I do my best and force myself to finish up to the last spoonful of soup. I feel nauseous.

The doctor seems satisfied and walks out. A few minutes later her assistant returns and hands me my notebook. It brings a lot of memories back. I open it and find it just as I left it. There are still the rests of paper from the two sheets I tore out. One became a flower and the other a letter.

The assistant picks up the tray and the empty bowl of soup.

\- Wait! - I say before he exits - You didn’t bring me a pen.-

\- You asked for the notebook.

\- How will I write if I don’t have a pen?

\- That’s not my problem. You asked for the notebook.

And with that he walks out.

I tear out one more page. I need to write to Sophie. I need to!! I have the paper but I don’t have the ink. I look around. I need something, anything I can use to write. Nothing, I have nothing. Damn it!! I wasted my chance asking for a notebook that’s no good for shit!! Despair overcomes me and I bang my head against the wall. One, two, three times, harder each time. It’s all useless. I will never see her again, I will never get to speak to her again…

Suddenly a drop of blood falls on my white clothes. My nose bleeds from the punches. The drops become a stream. I wipe it with one hand and my fingers get stained with red. Hold on…

\- Hahahaha!!

Of course, that’s it!! I pick up the paper sheet and with the ink of my veins I start to write.

\- Hahahaha!!

My fingers draw inevitably big letters. I will need more than just one page to write it all down and I will definitely need more ink. I bang my head against the wall again until enough blood is flowing from my nose to write everything I need to say to Sophie.

I tear out another and another sheet. I fill them out on both sides. I think I wrote an entire book. My sight goes blurry, I feel dizzy. I can hardly recognize the letters I’m forming. I only see red stains…then black satins in front of my eyes. The room is spinning and suddenly everything goes dark.


	4. The messenger

The voices whisper inside my head. What are they saying? I open my eyes. My head hurts. Where am I? This is not my cell. How did I get here? I sit up but something stops me. I look to my side and see that my left hand is handcuffed to the bed while the right one is connected to a catheter through which a serum travels slowly to my veins. I´m at the infirmary. Why am I here?

\- Arthur…

I look to my other side and see Doctor Kane sitting beside my bed.

\- Why did you do it?

\- Do what?

\- Were you trying to kill yourself?

\- What? What are you talking about?

I try to remember what happened and how I got here.

\- I gave you what you asked for. I gave you your notebook.

The notebook. The assistant brought it mo me. He didn’t bring me a pen. Oh yes…now I remember.

\- Arthur, answer me. Were you trying to end your life?

\- Hahahahaha….

\- Arthur!

\- I was just trying to write a letter.

\- A letter to whom?

\- To her…the woman who came to see me…

\- Nobody came.

\- She did. She came on Tuesday, the visitation day. I saw her.

\- No one came, Arthur. Is this another one of your fantasies?

\- It’s not. She is real, a person of flesh and bones and a heart that loves me. Her name is Sophie, Sophie Dumond and she lives in my building, apartment 8B. She works in a bank and she has a little daughter named Gigi.

\- There’s no record of any person with that name.

\- Records are nothing but paper.

Is this what they did to Penny? I wonder how many of the interns in Arkham are really crazy and how many are just made to believe that they are.

\- You still haven’t said why you tried to end your life.

\- I told you. I was just trying to write a letter. I don’t want to talk anymore. Can I go back to my cell?

\- You are staying here until you get well. You lost a lot of blood.

\- I want to leave. Please, take off the handcuffs. They’re hurting me.

\- I can’t let you harm yourself again.

The doctor stares at me for a while. Her look is always empty. Her eyes are always cold, like the eyes of people who calculate. She doesn’t care what happens to me, she cares about her job.

The assistant comes and makes his usual round. He greets the doctor, checks my vital signs and writes them down on a paper.

\- His pulse is stable, doctor. Temperature and blood pressure are normal.

\- Alright, thank you.- says Doctor Kane. She checks the numbers on the paper and hands it back to her assistant.

\- Attach this to the documents I handed you earlier and leave the folder on the table over there. The man from the registry section will come in a moment to collect it. You can leave.

My eyes fall on the folder he holds in his hands. It has my name on the back.

**_Patient: Arthur Fleck_ **

**_Case 4478_ **

It’s thick, very thick. How many documents does it contain? It looks damaged and old, as if it had been kept for years. Suddenly something occurs inside my head. It’s hard to describe. It feels like a trip to the past. As if there was an error in the timeline, as if the clock ran backwards for a split second. I’ve lived through this moment before. And all the sudden, as son as it came the feeling fades away. My eyes are still fixed on the folder. The sheets that protrude from the sides look old, with yellowish edges. The ones at the end, however are white. They’re recent, like the one that was just added by the assistant. My record is too extensive for the few weeks that I’ve been here. And then I understand… I’ve been here before.

The young man leaves the folder on the table and retreats.

The doctor looks at me somewhat impatient.

\- Arthur, we want to rehabilitate you. I’m trying to help you. But it’s not possible if you don’t cooperate, do you understand?

Rehabilitate me…

It’s curious how people deform the meaning of words.

\- Is this why you keep me in a cold and dark room? You deny me the visit of the only person in the world who cares about me. You put me in chains and stuff me with pills that don’t let me live and also don’t let me sleep. Will that “rehabilitate” me? I’m unfamiliar with that word, it’s the first time I hear it and it has no meaning to me. How do you expect a man to become a man again if you treat him like a beast? You worry that I might kill myself, doctor? Don’t. You’re already doing a magnificent job killing what little life remains in me.

\- You still haven’t said anything regarding the events that brought you here. You know why you’re locked up, don’t you? Have you thought about the things you did?

\- Hahahahaha.

\- Arthur…

\- Leave me alone. Let me be.

I lay on my side as best as the handcuffs allow it and turn my back to her. I hear the retreating footsteps and the closing door. I wait for a few seconds and sit up again. I try to reach for the folder but the handcuffs stop me. I pull at them in vain. I can’t loosen myself.

The door opens again. I remain still. But it’s not her. Wait…I know him! I know this man! It’s the lad from whom I snatched Penny’s record. Our eyes meet and the man stops. Does he recognize me?

\- Good evening, eeehm I just came to fetch this. - he says picking up the folder.

\- Wait!! - I say before he can leave.

\- I know you, I came here before. Before I was locked up. I came to look for my mother’s record. Her name is Penny Fleck. You got it for me.

\- I remember you.

\- You seem like a good guy. Please help me!

\- Sorry, what?

\- A woman came to see me on visitation day. You must have registered her visit. She has brown skin and she’s very beautiful. Her name is Sophie. She asked to see me and was turned away. Please, you have seen her. You must have seen her.

\- I’m sorry. I don’t recall. Many people come and go.

\- Help me find her. Please, if she comes back, give her this.

Next to the dinner plate the nurse left is a napkin. I pick it up with my one free hand and fold it into a bird.

\- Please… - I beg.

He stares at me for a moment, then takes the paper in his hands and studies it.

\- Is she family?

\- No…

\- A friend?

\- She’s the person who loves me…

The man remains thoughtful.

\- I’m sorry - he says - I can’t help you. -

But he stuffs the paper in his pocket, nonetheless.

Days have gone by and Sophie hasn’t returned. I haven’t heard either of her, nor of the messenger. I’m back in my cell but I’ve been stripped of the privilege of keeping my hands free. They say it’s for my own good.

My dear Sophie, the sun never shines through my window. Even the shadows run from this place. I’ve learned that misery loves loneliness. I don’t want you to see me like this, and still I’ll be waiting for you because I have no other choice.

I thought there were no chains that could bind me, but there are and I feel them around my ankles and around my wrists, cutting my veins. They’re more terrible and more powerful than the metal handcuffs they’ve put on me and only you hold the key. I’m doomed by the desire to see you again and that desire forces me to go on… to wait for you to come through that door again and ask for me.

I will be here, Sophie, chained by the doubt, with an open wound, waiting for you every day, dreaming of you every night until I see you again or until the hand of fate opens the tomb for me and finally allows me to rest inside of it.


	5. Mosaic

\- Good afternoon, sir. I´m here to see patient Arthur Fleck.

\- It’s not visitation day.

The man on the other side of the glass seems so indifferent.

\- I know and I’m really sorry to bother you, but…

\- Tell that to next guy. My shift’s over.

He gets up and walks out.

It’s six o’clock. I come here as soon as I leave work. I wait for as long as I can afford to stay. Last Tuesday I got lucky and managed to sneak in along with the visitors coming to see the other inmates. I even made it into the hall. But it was useless. Still I’ve kept coming every day and today is just one more such day.

A young man walks in and takes the place of the previous guy.

\- Good afternoon, miss. How can I help you?

His face is friendly. It’s the first time I see him.

\- Good afternoon. I’m here to see patient Arthur Fleck.

\- I’m sorry, we don’t receive guests today. Come back on Tuesday.

\- Yes, I know…- I let my shoulders hang.

I look up again and search for the man’s eyes. To my surprise, he doesn’t look away.

\- Sir…I’ve been coming here every day for five weeks and I will keep coming back, come rain, come thunder or even the end of the world and I will wait for how many hours it may take only to come back again the next day.

The man is quiet for a moment.

\- What did you say was the name of the man you’re looking for?

\- Arthur…Arthur Fleck.

Something in his face changes. He looks down both sides of the corridor and then stares back at me. He guides one hand into the pocket of his shirt and takes something out of it. I can’t make out what it is. He slides it towards me through the gap at the bottom of the glass window .

It’s a paper bird folded by the same hands that made me a paper flower. I pick it up carefully and a tear rolls down my face as I recognize Arthur in it.

The man just looks at me.

\- It’s you…- he says then, as if he somehow recognized me - Wait here…don’t go. Maybe I can help you.-

My heart beats so loud. I don’t dare to move an inch. I hear footsteps nearing. Two pairs of feet. I turn around and see the same young man escorted by an older woman. She wears a white uniform and frowns as she sees me.

\- Good afternoon…

\- They say you’re here to see Mr. Fleck. Is that right?

\- Yes, Doctor. I…

\- Consider this an absolute exception. Follow me.

I’m speechless. I don’t even get to thank the young man and I just hurry and follow the woman down the end of the corridor where she stops and turns around to look at me. Her eyes are cold. She seems tired.

\- Was it you who came to see him last Tuesday?

\- Yes…

She remains thoughtful for a while.

\- Look…this is outside any protocol. Patients like him are not allowed to have visitors. But like the young man said, maybe you can help me help him.

I’m not following very well but something tells me I might have a real chance here. The doctor sighs deeply and her shoulders slump slightly.

\- I’ll be honest with you, miss…?

\- Dumond, Sophie Dumond.

\- Miss Dumond, Arthur refuses to talk to any of us and I really need him to talk. I’ve run out of resources.

Something about that sounds very off, but I don’t dare to make any questions.

\- In a few weeks Arthur will have to stand trial. He will have to answer for six murders, three of them in the first degree.

\- I understand…

\- If it is found that Arthur was in his right mind when he committed those crimes, he will face life sentence in maximum security prison, and that’s the best case scenario.

\- The best case scenario?

\- I don’t know if you’re aware of this, miss Dumond, but the death penalty is still in force in this state.

\- What are you trying to tell me?

\- I’m trying to tell you that if we can convince the court that Arthur suffered from severe mental illness when he committed those acts and that he was either under the effect, or the lack of certain prescribed substances, such a sentence could be avoided.

Her words are hard to process. I feel like I’ve been punched in the face.

\- He will never be free…right?

\- No. But it could save his life. At least, he could stay here where he gets the treatment he needs.

I swallow the tears that flood my eyes.

\- How can I help Arthur?- I ask.

\- I need him to speak. But like I said, he refuses to speak to me or to any other doctor. If he does not cooperate, I can’t know what happened. If he does not tell me his side of the story, I can’t make a proper psychiatric evaluation and whatever lawyer the state appoints him will not know how to defend him in front of the judge.

\- Then you do care about Arthur, right? You too want to help him.

\- Don’t be mistaken, miss Dumond, Arthur is a murderer. But I believe that even murderers have the right to a fair trial.

The doctor sits down on a bench. She removes her glasses and rubs at her visibly tired eyes. I take a seat next to her.

\- Arthur doesn’t only refuse to talk. He also refuses to eat. He tried to kill himself on more than one occasion.

More than once? Arthur…

\- Please… - I say to her - Let me talk to him.-

She looks at me. She doubts.

\- Please, let me try…- I insist.

\- Like I said, he doesn’t talk to anyone.

\- He will talk to me.

The woman stands up and puts her glasses back on.

\- Alright. But I will not take unnecessary risks. A guard will escort you.

I follow the doctor down a narrow corridor on the second floor. A uniformed guard walks beside me. We stop in front of the last door on the right.

\- We will be watching from outside. If he tries to hurt you, the guard will be ready to enter.

\- That won’t be necessary.- I assure her.

I step closer to the tiny window. I have to stand on my tiptoes to see inside the cell. There he is. My heart stops beating. His hair is died green and his face is painted just the way it was when I saw him on TV.

I look at the doctor who seems to read my thoughts.

\- Like I said, I’ve run out of resources. I first gave him his notebook and it didn’t work. Then he tried to commit suicide and after staying in the infirmary for several days, I granted him the paint and make up he asked for. Still then, I didn’t manage to get a single word out of his mouth.

My eyes return to the inside of the room and to the clown that lays motionless in a corner. Both his hands are tied to the bed and even though he could be sitting on top of it, he seems to prefer the floor. His head leans against the wall and his eyes are lost on a random spot. He is thinner than before, if that’s even possible. My poor Arthur…what have they done to you?

\- Please, take off the handcuffs.

The guard shakes his head no.

\- Please… at my own risk.

\- No.- says the doctor - These are my conditions. I’m taking no risks. -

I don’t insist. I just step aside so they can open the door for me.

\- You have ten minutes.-

I step inside. The door closes behind me. I take my high heels off so the sounds of them doesn’t disturb Arthur and I take four steps towards him until I’m standing right in front.

He’s so different. The clown make up hides his skin and transforms his features. He seems another man, unlike the one I remember. He hasn’t noticed my presence. Something in his unmoving face is unsettling, I’m scared of the absence in his eyes. I think back to the last time I saw him. He had a similar look. He was there and at the same time he wasn’t present. He doesn’t blink even once, I don’t know if he’s even breathing. He looks like a rag doll, a white and cold statue with eyes made of glass that see right through me, as if I wasn’t standing there. I slowly crouch down until I’m sitting in front of him. Where have you gone, Arthur? In what distant world are you, so far away from me?

I hesitate for a split second before I draw my lips near to his forehead and kiss him on that little spot where the white paint ends and his green hairline begins.

I lean back just enough to see his face again, that face I once knew. As if he had woken from a dream, Arthur blinks a few times and then he sees me. His eyes light up and those eyes that seemed so distant a moment ago suddenly come to life. They see me. And I realize that they’re still the same eyes, full of magic and scars. That spark they carried inside, although weak, still remains. The green looks watery and glassy because of the tears that start to flood his orbits and even though his smile is painted, I can see a real smile on his thin lips. Now I recognize him. It’s him, without any doubt, the man who being so simple is unlike any other I know.

\- Sophie!

\- Arthur…

\- You came! You haven’t forgotten me…

\- How could I? I’ve come here every day…

I show him the paper bird I put in my pocket. I see the joy that graces Arthur’s face when he sees that his message got to me. He pulls at the handcuffs, making metal hit against metal.

\- I would like to hug you…

And it is thus that I move even closer, closing the small distance between us and I hug him. Our bodies melt into each other in that hug that feels like coming home after a long day. Arthur rests his head on my shoulder and even though I can’t see his face, I know he’s smiling.

There are moments when you don’t need to say more, for words live in the terrestrial world. But souls, being infinite, understand each other in a language of their own that sounds more like silence.

I know I only got ten minutes, and yet I spend almost half of those on this hug.

When I finally let go, my eyes fall on his hands. The skin around his wrists are hurt from the constant friction against the metal but there are also wounds there caused by himself.

Time slips away.

\- Arthur…there’s something I need to ask of you…

He doesn’t say anything, he just looks at me. I cup his cheek with my right hand and Arthur leans into it, never looking away from my eyes.

\- I ask you to not give up.

\- Sophie, I…

\- Shhh! - I cut him off before he can refuse or say something that I’m not ready to hear.

\- Arthur, _please don’t hurt yourself_.

I can’t stop the tears that run from my eyes as I imagine him dead here, alone in this awful place.

\- Sophie, no! Don’t cry, please! Tell me what I have to do and I’ll do it.

I dry my tears and take his hands in mine.

\- Give them what they want, Arthur. Talk to them. Maybe they can help us. - I beg.

\- I don’t trust them…- says Arthur in a small voice, looking to the door.

Both the guard and Doctor Kane look at us through the small window.

\- I’ll come every week. I’ll wait for hours if I have to. But they’ll only let me see you if you speak.

I squeeze his hands.

\- I won’t let them hurt you, Arthur. I promise.

Arthur is thoughtful for a while.

\- I will speak if you’re by my side and only when you’re by my side.

I smile in relief because I see a light down the end of the road, even if it’s weak like the flame on a candle and ephemeral like a shooting star.

\- Alright…

I have maybe two minutes left. I remember I’m carrying something in my bag. I open it and take out my diary, where I haven’t written a single word after that day. Between its pages I find a lose paper, folded in two. 

\- Gigi made this for you.

Arthur tries to take the paper in his hands, forgetting once again that he’s handcuffed. I open it for him and show him the drawing my daughter made him.

\- I’ve been carrying it with me from the first day I came here. I promised her I’d give it to you.

A beautiful smiles appears on Arthur’s lips as he sees the lonely blue balloon painted over the white background.

\- Thank you! - he whispers, smiling also with his eyes.

I fold the paper again and hide it inside of his notebook. Suddenly, as swiftly as it came, his smile fades.

\- Does she…know what I’ve done?- he asks, frightened.

\- No, Arthur.

\- Please, Sophie…don’t let her know what I’ve become…

And then a lonely tear falls from his eye, drawing a path through the make up.

\- I won’t… - I promise as I wipe that tear away with my hand.

His glassy eyes look at me and inside them are a thousand words unsaid.

\- Sophie, I know I’ll never be free. But I’ll do whatever they ask me to do if that means they’ll let me see you even just for a second.

He smiles a sad smile. I see the resignation in his look. I do my best to contain my own tears. In the bottom of my heart I know that he’s right. He will never be free. But how can I walk out that door without looking back? Can I abandon him to his fate, waiting for a sentence that he himself doesn’t know hangs over his head? No. I can’t do that. Just as I can’t accept that such be the fate of this man whom I love.

I have one minute left.

And it is so that I do the only thing that seems to make any sense at the moment. I take his face in my hands, I lean forward, close my eyes and press my lips softly against his. I can feel it in the way he’s completely still, the manner in which he holds his breath gives him away. Arthur has never kissed a woman before and the kiss I gave him is one he probably can’t remember. But none of that matters, for this is a kiss unlike any other. It doesn’t resemble any other I’ve ever given before and I will certainly never feel a kiss like this again. There are no words in our language or in any other that could capture the nature of this kiss.

I open my eyes and meet his. Life returns to Arthur’s face and this inexplicable love I feel for him becomes the only certainty when everything else is uncertain.

\- Don’t give up on yourself, Arthur, and I won’t give up on you.

I couldn’t leave him behind even if I wanted to. How can you quit when there’s even the tiniest bit of hope? Who doesn’t want to see tomorrow? Something inside me tells me that there are still pages to be written in Arthur’s life.

After all… what do you do with the broken pieces of something beautiful? Especially something made of glass.

You make something even more beautiful. You make a mosaic. 


	6. Shadows

Winter has finally arrived in Gotham. I don’t know what day it is, but I can feel a more intense cold creeping into my room through the walls as I put on my makeup. It’s difficult to do it with just one free hand and nothing more than a steel plate for a mirror, but I paint my face every day. I do it because I want to wear my true face but also because I want her to see me smile. It’s Tuesday after all.

When Sophie comes to see me, my grey week fills with colors and I can feel the music inside me again. The sky grants me one day for every thousand nights.

The big hall is filled with visitors. Fort he first time I don’t need to watch from my window. I’m here even though with my hands tied and a guard standing next to me. And I’m waiting for someone. I begin to understand that this is the biggest treasure a man can have… someone to wait for.

My heart beats faster as I see her come in through the door. She’s wearing a black coat, thicker than the brown one she wears in autumn. Her hands hide inside a pair of gloves and a red scarf around her neck brightens her face. Her eyes search for me among the other people and they smile once they spot me. I get up and Sophie greets me with a hug that my tied hands can’t return.

Before either of us can say a word, the guard takes my arm and guides me to Dr. Kane’s office. My Tuesdays are a little different than those of the other inmates. The only reason I’m even allowed a visitor is that I agreed to the interrogations. Sophie comes with me and waits for me outside. She’s not allowed to go in but I know she observes from the window. I know she’s there and I know if I speak, I will have twenty minutes with her afterwards. That was the deal.

I don’t like these sessions. I don’t know how to answer the questions they ask me because I don’t know what it is they want to hear. The doctor records all of our conversations, everything that I say. To my right the guard watches me closely. Any movement from my part, no matter how little, is interpreted as a threat. I don’t feel like the devil, but I am to them.

Doctor Kane goes through some of the documents and takes notes but I can’t read her writing. She’s got all of my records right there on the table inside the folder that has my name on it. Case 4478. The papers inside know more about my past than I know myself.

\- Tell me about the sessions you had with your therapist.

\- What do you want to know?

\- What was the purpose of them?

\- I don’t know.

\- What happened during these sessions?

\- She asked questions and gave me prescriptions. She didn’t care about the answers. I went in for the prescriptions.

\- I see here that you were on seven different medications, most of them antidepressants.

\- Yes.

\- Did they make you feel better?

\- I felt nothing.

\- Were there any moments when you felt better at all?

\- When I was around Sophie.

\- I see. Would you say you felt happy in those moments?

\- I don’t know. I don’t understand that word very well.

\- How would you describe your feelings when you were around her?

\- I felt _alive_.

\- Did you suffer from depression?

Sometimes people have sadness inside of them the same way they have black hair or brown eyes. They simply have it. For what I know, sadness has always been a part of me…like a shadow. Is there a man on earth that can separate from his shadow? That sadness greeted me every morning when I woke up and it went to bed with me at night. It danced beside me, laughed at my jokes and cried with my tears. It peeked over my shoulder when I wrote my journal and looked me in the eyes through every mirror and every window. Sadness has been my companion as I walked the streets of the city and it gave me comfort as it sat next to me when I was beaten down. She is the only one that has seen every corner of my darkness. I don’t fear her, for I know her and she has become my friend. Even right now she sits beside me and her words, just like mine, are immortalized in the records. Even when Sophie is around, sadness sits between the two of us and on those moments it smiles at me because sometimes sadness can have so much beauty. Not all tears are bitter.

\- Arthur?

\- Yes?

\- I asked if you suffered from depression.

\- I think that’s what the records say.

\- The day you shot those three men in the subway, you weren’t taking your medicines anymore. Is that correct?

\- That’s right.

\- Why did you stop taking them?

\- Social services were cut. I couldn’t get the prescriptions.

\- For how many days had you been off your medication?

\- I had run out of some of them, others I still had left. I don’t remember exactly.

\- On the day of the event, did you feel any different due to the absence of your drugs?

\- I felt the same as always.

\- Did you experience any hallucinations, anxiety or panic attacks?

\- No.

\- Would you say something unusual happened that day?

\- I lost my job.

\- Why did you shoot those men?

\- Because I got jumped.

\- I see. But I need to establish why you reacted the way you did.

\- Because I got jumped.

\- Would you say that you lacked clarity in your thoughts?

\- No.

\- Did you feel like you were doing something you didn’t really want to do?

\- No.

\- That’s all for today. We will speak again next week. The state will provide you a lawyer by then.

The minutes with Sophie in the big hall are precious to me and I don’t want to waste a single one talking about Dr. Kane but Sophie wants to know.

\- They say they’ll give me a lawyer and I will see a judge in a few weeks.- I explain.

\- That’s ok, Arthur. I’ll be by your side and I’ll help your lawyer defend you.

\- But Sophie…how can a lawyer defend me if I’m guilty? I never denied what I did. That’s why I’m locked up here, right? I don’t understand. What does a judge want from me?

Sophie takes my hands in hers. She looks like she wants to say something. She seems to be looking for the words she’s missing.

\- I don’t know either. But we’ll figure it out together. I promise.

Sophie kisses my hands. Why are there tears in her eyes?

There is yet another kind of shadow I perceive. Only this one isn’t by my side, but hangs above me. It comes around only sometimes, leaning with all its weight on my shoulders. I can’t see its face, I don’t know it nor understand it but I perceive it. Dark and silent like an invisible threat. My other shadow fears it, for both are not alike.

\- Sophie?

Sophie smiles for me. I know that smile, it’s one of those smiles that hurt on the lips. It is no more real than the one painted on my face.

\- Let’s not think about that now, Arthur. Tomorrow is Christmas.

\- It is?

\- Yes…

The windows in this room are too high and narrow. I can’t see more than a bit of grey sky.

\- What does it look like outside?- I ask.

Sophie wipes at her eyes. This place makes people sad.

\- Well…it looks nice.

\- Did it snow?

\- Yes… in fact this year it’s snowing more than ever. The streets are all covered in white.

\- Hmmm.

I close my eyes and imagine the scene. I’ve always liked the snow.

\- Are there any lights?

\- In every avenue and every tree.

\- What about music? Is there music, too?

\- Yes…can you hear it?

I think I can. Between the far away noise from the cars and the shouting people I think I can actually hear it.

\- Five minutes, madam.- says the guard. He stands only a few feet away from us.

Sophie holds my hands again and her fingers brush over my skin.

\- I wanted to bring you a gift, Arthur. I’m sorry, they don’t let me bring anything inside.

\- Don’t worry. You bring me everything I need. I would like to stay with you for one more minute. But you shouldn’t be here today. Go home, Sophie. Your daughter is waiting.

\- Your hands are always cold.

Sophie takes her scarf off and puts it around my neck. It has her smell and her softness.

\- Arthur…

\- Mhm?

\- It’s time!- the guard interrupts, walking over to Sophie.

\- You must take that with you.- he says, pointing to the scarf around my neck. - The rules are clear.-

\- But he’s cold.

\- Please understand, Miss Dumond.- says the man in a low voice. - The inmate has tried to take his own life before. That object is just as dangerous as a rope.-

\- I’m sorry…- she says, looking at me with the saddest eyes I have ever seen and she takes the scarf off my neck.

\- It’s alright, Sophie. Don’t worry. I’m not cold.

\- It’s time.- says the man again.

\- Just a minute, please, sir.- Sophie begs on the verge of crying.

\- Arthur, tell me what I can do for you.

The shadow on my shoulders grows heavier. It’s like a black cloud appearing over the horizon. I’m afraid and I don’t even know of what.

\- I just… I’d like to know the truth about my past. I want to know who I am…so I can understand how I got here.

\- Time’s up. You must leave madam, please.

The guard takes Sophie’s arm but she doesn’t move.

\- Please, madam. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.

Sophie sees a second guard walking over. Our time’s up.

\- Tell me how, Arthur.

\- The files.- I whisper to her ear - Case 4478.-

The guards escort her to the exit and Sophie turns around to look at me once more. The last thing I see are her lips repeating the number in silence before she vanishes behind the white door and I regret that I didn’t get to kiss her goodbye.


	7. The faceless man

_The streets are a frightening place when you are small. But they’re even more frightening when apart from being small, you’re also alone. There is so much noise and so many people. I see the huge buildings that disappear between the clouds and a sea of grey coats. People pass me by, pushing and me and stepping over me. They shield their heads with black umbrellas that look like giant bats. The world seems so big from down here. But I prefer to be here and not at home. I don’t walk too far. Just to the corner where the toy store is. I like this place even though I have never been inside._ _I stop near the entrance, where I don’t bother anyone and where the rain doesn’t hit so hard. I step closer to the window._ _There are so many toys…in all colors and sizes. The music can be heard from outside. I see other kids going in with their moms. I’m alone. But I would like to see. I want to see what else is inside._ _If only just for once._

_I carefully push the glass door open so I can step inside. It’s not cold in here. I stop. There are so, so many toys._ _Cars and balls, books and plushies. There are even candies and chocolate bars next to the exit._

_I walk slowly through the corridors, looking at everything around me. I stop in front of the shelves where the plush toys are. There are bears and rabbits and other animals I don’t know. I like the rabbits, they have large ears. They look so soft, but I don’t dare to touch anything. I only look._

_I’ve always wanted a toy, just one. If I could choose one, it would be a plushie. I don’t even need a big one. It could be small, like me._

_The shelves are so high. They almost reach the ceiling. I look up. And way up there, between the stuffed animals I see a different kind of plushie. It’s not an animal. I step closer and stand on my tip toes. It’s a clown! He has green hair and a red suit._ _I reach out to hold it in my hands. The mouth is painted red and he smiles at me. I run my fingers through his hair. It’s soft. And it’s not too big. It actually fits perfectly in my arms._

_Suddenly someone pulls at my sweater._

_\- Where were you?_

_It’s mom._

_\- Put that back! You know I have no money._

_I put he toy back on the shelf. Mom takes my hand and drags me towards the exit. I try to fight it._ _I want to stay here._

_\- Let’s go! - says mom angrily._

_She grabs my arm and pulls me away. She scares me and it hurts. I don’t want to go back home. I don’t want to. I don’t like it when he is there._ _I’m scared and I start to cry._

_\- Stop crying and let’s go home!_

_The lady at the register has seen everything. She walks over to us and puts a hand on my shoulder. I look up. She holds the clown I was looking at a moment ago. I’m scared._ _I’m sure she will scold me for touching it without her permission._

_\- Why are you crying, sweetheart?_

_I don’t manage to say anything. But she looks at me with a kind face._

_\- Do you like this one?- she asks._

_I nod._

_\- You want to take it home with you?_

_\- Mhm._

_\- I don’t have money to buy anything, madam. Let’s go, Arthur!_

_\- Don’t worry about it.- the woman says to her and she crouches down so she’s at my height. She wipes my tears away and smiles at me._

_\- Your name is Arthur?_

_\- Yes, madam._

_\- If I give you Mr. Clown, do you promise not to cry?_

_\- Mhm._

_The woman hands me the toy and I hug it to my chest._

_\- He’s all yours.- she says and her hand brushes softly over my hair. - Now go home with your mom, ok? -_

_Mom takes my hand again and pulls me towards the door. I turn around once more to look at the lady._

_\- Thank you…- I whisper._

_That night I fall asleep with a smile. I feel like the luckiest kid in the world. I finally have a friend._

Sometimes the memories are very clear, like now. They appear suddenly, without me trying to invoke them. I remembered my clown toy, but I didn’t remember how it got to me. I always assumed it was Penny who gave it to me. I see now that it wasn’t like that. But not all memories are as clear. Often it’s only fragments, small pieces without any context. I try to reconstruct my memory but it’s like trying to build a puzzle that’s missing too many pieces.

Of all the things I can’t fully reconstruct, the is one that keeps me awake even when I try with all my strength to stop thinking. There is one things that haunts and tortures me. It’s the face of that man. The face of that demon my mom used to bring home is something that has been erased from my mind completely. When I try to remember the moments I used to hide from him, I can hear him yelling, I can feel his footsteps and I see his shoes. But when I look up I can’t see his face. His features remain hidden behind a kind of fog and no matter how hard I try, I can’t match a face to the voice that keeps haunting me more than twenty years later.


End file.
